


Harry Potter and the Collection of Christmas Vignettes

by Missfoodie2shoes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gen, POV Neville Longbottom, POV Sirius Black, Sad Sirius Black, Vignette, Weasley Family, Young Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missfoodie2shoes/pseuds/Missfoodie2shoes
Summary: This is a series of five Christmas vignettes I wrote years ago and then forgot about. They all take place within the world of Harry Potter, but in different time periods. From the Marauders Era through to the end of the second war, each tells a moment in time at Christmas. Some happy, some sad, but all memorable. Each piece is based on a Christmas song. See if you can tell which one each one's about! I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed rereading them after all these years. Merry Christmas!





	1. Family

Seven year old Ron Weasley sat in front of the fireplace on his family’s sitting room. The flames flickered bright yellow and orange as he held a hand-written letter up to the fire. “Come on Ginny!” he cried as the paper caught fire. “Put your letter in the fire too if you want Father Christmas to read it!” He let go of the paper and watched as the ashes floated up into the chimney.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Ginny cried, entering the room and waving a piece of paper in her hand. She passed it over to her older brother, who then added it to the fire. “Do you think he’ll get it in time?” she asked nervously, pacing the floor behind Ron.

“I think so,” Ron said reassuringly. He and his sister sat in front of the fireplace in silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought. Both were thinking about the wonderful presents Father Christmas was going to bring them. They were still sitting cross-legged on the floor, their chins in their hands, when something startled them. The flames in the fireplace suddenly turned green and roared loudly.

“Ho ho ho…Happy Christmas!” a booming voice called out as a man emerged from the green flames of the fireplace. The man had a long white beard, and wore a red velvet suit. He carried a large white sack on his back. “Are there any good children in this house?”

The man set the bag on the floor and waited with a smile on his face as he looked up to see the two youngsters standing in front of him, their eyes as big as saucers. “Father Christmas! It’s Father Christmas!” Ron whispered as he backed away from the fireplace.

“Father Christmas is here! He’s here!” Ginny cried, jumping up and down excitedly. She ran out of the room shouting as loudly as she could to her brothers to come into the sitting room.

“And what is your name, little boy?” Father Christmas asked as he sat down on a chair at the dining room table.

The little boy crawled up onto his lap and grinned. “Ron,” he said.

“And how old are you, Ron?”

“Seven,” he replied with a smile.

“Seven years old, that’s quite grown up! What would you like for Christmas this year, Ron?” Father Christmas asked as Ginny returned to the room, along with her brothers and mother.

“I want a chess set! And a box of chocoballs!” Ron cried excitedly.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do about that,” Father Christmas replied before petting Ron on the head and setting him on the floor.

Each child took a turn sitting on Father Christmas’s lap and telling him what they wanted for Christmas. All except the three eldest boys. They were apparently too grown up to sit on Father Christmas’s lap, though not too grown to tell him what they wanted for Christmas.

When everybody had finished telling Father Christmas what they wished for, Molly whisked them upstairs to bed. Once all the children had been tucked into their beds, Molly returned and helped Father Christmas put presents in the stockings hanging from the fireplace mantle.

“And what about you, young lady?” Father Christmas asked as he put presents under the tree. “Were you good or bad this year?”

“Oh, I was a very good girl this year,” Molly replied with a laugh.

“And what would you like for Christmas this year?” Father Christmas asked. He reached into his bag and took out one final item: a small sprig of mistletoe. He walked over to Molly and held the mistletoe over her head. He grinned before leaning down and kissing her.

“Oh…I’ve already gotten what I want for Christmas,” she said with a smile before wrapping her arms around Father Christmas’s shoulders and kissing him in return.

Ron and Ginny watched this from the doorway, their mouths opened in shock. Their mum was kissing Father Christmas! Ginny started to giggle, and Ron clapped his hand over her mouth before dragging her away from the door and back up the stairs to their bedrooms. They had snuck back downstairs to try and watch Father Christmas fly back up the chimney, only to find their mother kissing him!

That night, Ron had trouble falling asleep, and the next morning, he moped around as his brothers and sister excitedly opened their presents. “Ron, son, what’s the matter?” his father Arthur asked him, a frown of concern on his face. “It’s Christmas day, you should be opening your presents.”

Ron bit his lip and kicked the foot of a chair next to him. “Last night…Father Christmas came to the house…and mum was kissing him…” he mumbled.

Arthur tried not to smile at his son’s obvious upset. “Well, I’m sure it was just a simple kiss, nothing more. But, I’ll have a talk with her about it later, all right? Don’t worry, son,” he said before patting Ron on the shoulder reassuringly. “Why don’t you go open your gifts now?”

Ron stalked off and grabbed his stocking from the mantel. As he slowly opened his presents, he looked up to see his parents whispering to one another. Molly laughed lightly and then quickly bit her lip to stop when she saw her youngest son glancing surreptitiously at her.

“Well, Molly, it appears as though we were spotted last night...” Arthur whispered to his wife, “and I’m afraid your youngest son seems to think you’re rather a bit of a slapper.”

Molly’s eyebrows rose and she laughed before stifling herself and looking over at Ron. “Is that so?” she replied, covering her mouth and blushing.

“That’s so,” Arthur said, kissing her cheek. “But don’t worry, dear, I still love you.”

Molly kissed her husband in return. “Thank you dear.”

Ron sighed, feeling satisfied that everything was all right between his parents, and turned his attention to the new miniature chess set he’d just received from Father Christmas.


	2. Golden Days of Yore

Neville Longbottom sat at the dining table looking at his family. They had all gathered together for Christmas, and he was trying to enjoy it. Last year he’d been at Hogwarts, and unable to return home. It had been a very sad, very lonely, and very scary Christmas. Voldemort was trying to take over, the school was being run by Death Eaters, and terrible things were happening there. He had stayed behind to help protect the other children there. It hadn’t been much of a Christmas, but he’d gotten through it. Now the war was over, and things were slowly getting back to normal.

The idea of a merry little Christmas had been so important a year ago, because he wasn’t going to have one. Now that he was having one, it felt strange. Something had changed. Maybe it was him. He’d stared into the face of evil itself and had lived to speak of it. He had destroyed one of the horcuxes and had survived. He’d fought, long and hard, and now it was over. How could he go back to the way things had been when he’d been a child now that he’d been through so much?

His gran was working very hard to make the holiday a good one for him. His great Uncle Algie was staying with them, and had given him twice the presents since he’d not been there the year before. The food was delicious, as usual. The turkey was moister than it had ever been, the potatoes fluffier, and the buns flakier, but something still wasn’t right.

When the meal was over, and everybody was sitting around sipping eggnog spiked with Firewhisky, Neville decided to take a walk. “I just need to get some of that fresh winter air,” he explained to his gran before kissing her cheek and picking up his thick winter robes.

He didn’t have a plan as to where to go, but he ended up in Diagon Alley. He walked into Muggle London and found the only shop that seemed to be open that day. There were still plenty of Christmas decorations, so he bought a couple bags-worth to take with him to his next stop. It only took a few minutes to walk to St. Mungo’s hospital. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he stepped through the false shop window and into the hospital.

His parents smiled when they saw him walk into their room with the bags in his hands. “Merry Christmas!” he called out to them. “And look what I’ve brought you!” He set the bags down on a table and began unpacking them. There was a miniature Christmas tree and packages of small ornaments to put on it. He had gotten a holly garland to string around the room, and two red stockings to hang by their beds.

Alice hovered over him as Neville decorated the tree. He handed her one of the ornaments, and she grinned while placing it carefully on the tree. He handed her a small gold star for the top of the tree, and stood back as she hung it on the highest bough. She clapped her hands when she’d finished and stood back to look at her handiwork.

Frank helped him hang up the holly and the stockings. He rifled through the second bag Neville had brought, and took out all the bags of sweets and treats. “Oh, wait dad! I was going to fill the stockings with that!” He took the bags and divided them up between the two stockings. He placed a pack of his mum’s favourite gum inside hers, and a bottle of Butterbeer inside his father’s.

As Neville sat and watched his parents enjoy the things from their stockings, he was filled with the happiness of Christmas that he remembered from his childhood. Maybe giving Christmas to somebody else was more fulfilling than having it handed to you. It was the simple things, the things that were so easy for him, but meant so much to somebody else, that had made the day for him.

Neville hoped he’d be able to enjoy Christmas with his parents every year. If he was lucky, they’d recover enough for him to take them back home to live. He wished more than anything that they could be together all the time, not just on the days he visited. It might not happen for a while yet, but someday, maybe. Until then, he’d make sure to spend more time with them, not just during the holidays, but on good days and bad days, and nothing days.

When he returned to his house that night, he hugged his gran tight, and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, gran,” he said.

“For what, Neville?” she asked.

“For making this a very Merry little Christmas,” Neville replied before heading up to his room. As he changed into his pyjamas that night, he looked out the window and sighed happily to see snow beginning to fall.


	3. Dreams

Neville Longbottom looked out one of the windows of Gryffindor Tower, trying to see if it was snowing yet. It hadn’t snowed yet this season, and it was already Christmas Eve. This was also his first year away from home during the holidays and he was feeling very alone. At difficult and frightening times like this past year, Harry Potter was usually around to save the day and protect everybody, but he wasn’t here now. The professors could only do so much against the Death Eaters to protect the students, and Neville felt it was his turn to give back to the school that had given so much to him. So, he had chosen to stay at school. He couldn’t leave when there were other students stuck there with nowhere to go. He had to look out for them. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He’d tried to make dinner that night special for the kids. He’d snuck out one day to Hogsmeade and used all the money he had to buy sweets and presents for them. He’d brought them back to the school and gave them out at the Christmas Eve meal. It had been a particularly tough year so far, and all of the children were grateful to receive a gift. Even the Slytherin students had smiled, though being careful to not show too much appreciation.

After dinner, Neville had returned to Gryffindor Tower with the other Gryffindors who were staying at the school. They settled into the chairs and pillows in front of the warm, cheery fire. Neville glanced out the windows again to see if it was snowing yet, but there was still nothing. Just a dark cloudless night. He sighed before turning his attention back to the children. “Do you think Father Christmas will be able to make it through all the magical wards?” one student, a first year, asked.

Neville patted him on the back. “I’m sure he will,” he replied. “Nothing can keep him away on Christmas.” He’d kept a few extra gifts up in his dormitory to give to them later on in the night. They’d wake up to presents, no matter what.

“Do you think there will be a Christmas dinner tomorrow?” a fourth year girl asked with a worried look on her face.

“I hope so,” Neville replied with a shrug. He’d stashed away bottles of Butterbeer and more sweets to supplement their meal in case it turned out to be less than desirable.

Neville sat in silence and thought about the Christmas he could be having at home. Gran would have made a turkey with all the trimmings. They’d visit his parents. His throat began to tighten at the thought of missing that precious time with his parents. He reached into his robe pocket and touched the gum wrapper he always kept there for safe-keeping. Would his parents even notice that he wouldn’t be there this year? It hurt him to think they might not even notice, but it hurt even more to think that they might. Not being there for his parents was torture…but he was needed here more.

After a while, the students began to play Exploding Snap and chatted happily together. Time passed quickly, and the next thing they knew, it was time for bed. The first year boy began to sniffle quietly as he walked towards the stairs to his dormitory. “I’ve never been away from home at Christmas before,” he confessed tearfully.

“We’ll have a good time, don’t worry,” Neville assured him before patting him on the shoulder and watching as he went into his room. When the others had all returned to their dormitories, he walked back towards the window and stood there.

There was no sign of snow, but the sound of wind whipping through the trees filled his ears. He’d almost always had a white Christmas, but he supposed it couldn’t be snowy every year. It would make the day much more bearable, though, if it did. He sighed while thinking of the Christmases he used to know. Before he could get too wistful and sad, however, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Professor McGonagall standing in front of him with an armful of brightly-wrapped presents.

“I was hoping you would be awake still,” she said in greeting while dumping half of the presents into his hands. “I’m going to put these in the girls’ dormitories, and I’d like you to deliver these to the boys, if you don’t mind. I want to make sure they wake up to gifts this year. There’s no telling what will happen to the presents their families try to send them. I have no doubt they’ll probably end up in Snape’s office where he’ll dole them out to all his cronies. That’s just like him, isn’t it?”

Neville frowned and nodded his head. “Just like him, yes. I have some gifts to add too. I hid the ones for the girls under the sofa,” he replied as he took out his wand and summoned the hidden presents over to the professor. “I also have Butterbeer and sweets for tomorrow in case dinner’s no good.”

Minerva smiled. “I just might join all of you for that. It hasn’t exactly been a cheery Christmas so far, has it?”

“I keep looking outside for snow, but…I don’t think it’s going to this year.”

“Nothing’s working out this year like it should. Hopefully this will all be over by next year.” Minerva looked out the window for a minute too before turning back to Neville. “Well, come on, let’s get these presents delivered, shall we?”

After delivering the presents to the dormitories, Neville returned to his own room and took out a sheet of parchment. He dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

Dear Gran, I miss you and hope this Christmas finds you well. Please give my love to mum and dad. I don’t know what we’re having for Christmas dinner tomorrow, but I doubt it’ll be as good as your turkey. I hope it snows down there, and that I’ll be able to be there next year. I’m going to send this off to you tonight, and with any luck, it’ll reach you by the morning.

I love you, Neville

Neville sent the letter off with an owl and climbed into bed. As he fell asleep, the wind continued to howl.


	4. Longing

Sirius Black moved restlessly about his cell in Azkaban. It was small, only a few feet in any direction. He walked from one end to the other, furrowing his brow in deep thought, though not many thoughts would hold in Azkaban. There was something different about this day, something special, but he couldn’t recall what. There was so much he couldn’t remember anymore, and it scared him. When he transformed himself into Padfoot, though, the memories and thoughts were stronger. The Dementors didn’t seem to notice when he became a dog. He tried to stay in dog-form for as long as possible in order to think of better times.

As Sirius looked out the tiny slit of the only window in his cell, he saw the moon gleaming brightly. He tried to stick his hand out the window to feel the frigid air whipping against his skin, but it was too narrow. The air inside his cell was always cold, but it never moved. Outside the air moved, like a living being; inside, it was stagnant, dead. He did the only other thing he could instead: he put his ear to the slit and listened to the waves crashing in the ocean below. He longed to be out, all the time, but the longing was particularly bad right now.

He closed his eyes and sighed before transforming himself into Padfoot. Within minutes of his change, he remembered what was different about the day. It was Christmas Eve. His first in Azkaban. His first since James and Lily…It was hardly a fun milestone. Even worse torture than being inside the prison was not knowing where Harry was or who was caring for him. Was he happy? Was he safe? He was too young to understand anything that had happened to his parents, and as his godfather, Sirius should be there for the child. But he was here instead.

Padfoot’s mind flashed onto fleeting moments of Sirius’s past. Christmastime at Hogwarts when he’d been a student. Christmas with James’s family. Even Christmas with his own family would be preferable to this. Nothing said “holiday cheer” quite like watching a man receive a Dementor’s Kiss. It was definitely one reason to be glad there wasn’t any mistletoe around. Padfoot’s thoughts turned from memories, to thoughts of the present time. He should be with Harry, helping him snap his Christmas cracker and placing the tissue paper crown on his little head. He’d make sure it was a gold or crimson crown. He’d read the joke to Harry, and help him play with the toy that would be inside the cracker. He should be with him, holding the little boy up as he put the star on top of the Christmas tree. They should be throwing tinsel on the branches, and hanging up brightly coloured ornaments. Who would help Harry open up his presents? And who would help him play with them? He’d have gotten Harry a set of magically flying motorbike toys, and they could have played with them together.

If he could be with Harry this Christmas, he’d have cooked a goose just for the two of them, and would even have attempted to steam a pudding. It would probably have turned out to be a disaster, and they would have ended up eating in a restaurant, but he still would have tried.

He wanted to play in the snow with Harry and show him how to form the perfect snowball. He wanted read to him The Night Before Christmas. And for himself, he wanted to kiss a beautiful woman under the mistletoe. He wanted to sit by a fireplace with a nice mug of hot Firewhisky and listen to the flames crackle and feel grateful for being so warm. But he couldn’t. Instead, he was here, in a dark, cold prison, in the form of a big black dog, alone.

Padfoot drifted off to sleep soon after that, the moonlight gleaming down on him from his window. He dreamed of a Christmas tree with presents on the branches, and a hot, golden roast goose on a table heavily laden with other delicious foods. They were the sweetest dreams, and when he awoke, he wanted to revel in them, but he could hear a guard coming with his food for the day. He tried his best to keep the memories and thoughts within him, but when he transformed back into Sirius, they were gone, and all he knew was the darkness of his cell.


	5. Snow Day

Once there was a boy who had three best friends. He was studying to become a wizard at school where all the other magical boys and girls in Britain went. Each year, when he was old enough, he and his friends would travel to the nearby magical village. The village was full of fun and wonders that delighted the children year after year.

Sirius Black traipsed through the Hogsmeade village, enjoying the company of his best friends, and popping pepper imps into his mouth. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in December, just a few weeks before Christmas, and the Marauders were enjoying their freedom. They had eaten lunch at the Three Broomsticks pub, and had purchased several bags of sweets apiece at Honeydukes sweet shoppe. They’d already gotten presents for their families, and were now meandering aimlessly through the village. The trees were lit with little twinkling colored lights, and the window displays in the stores actually moved. They were a sight to behold.

Just as the boys began to think all the fun had been had, and that it might be time to return to Hogwarts, they happened upon a most charming scene. A small group of young children were building a snowman in the front yard of a small thatch-roofed house. They were laughing and shrieking with delight as they rolled the ever-growing snowballs that would soon be set upon one another to create their snowman. One small girl flew out of the house, holding a blue scarf, a pipe, a button, two pieces of coal from the fireplace, and a black silk top hat. She set the items down in a pile at the foot of the front steps, and began to look around for sticks that would most likely become the arms.

Sirius and his friends stopped across the street to watch the children laugh and play. They smiled as the snowman slowly took shape. One of the older boys helped out the little girl who’d procured all the objects. It was too tall for her to reach the snowman’s face, so the boy lifted her up and let her assemble his face. She put in the pieces of coal for eyes, the button for a nose, a few stones she’d found in a smile shape for his mouth, and then stuck the pipe out of one corner. Next, she wrapped the blue scarf around the snowman’s neck.

Sirius thought about the young children for a moment and decided it would be amusing to join in with their fun. “You guys wanna have some fun?” he asked his friends quietly, taking his wand out of his robes.

“What are you going to do?” James asked curiously.

“Just watch…” Sirius snickered and waggled his eyebrows devilishly.

“Don’t do anything mean,” Remus requested, though he knew it was futile to do so.

“Well, what are you going to do?” Peter piped in eagerly.

Sirius aimed his wand at the snowman and muttered a few words. He’d always been good at Transfiguration, and wanted to see how far he could manage it. A thin gold beam shot out of his wand and hit the snowman in the belly just as the little girl put the black top hat on his head. A second later, the snowman began to rock around on its base, his twig arms started waving around, and his stone mouth moved up and down while words emanated from it. “Hello children! My name’s Fros—” it began to say, but was interrupted as the children began to scream in terror. The boy holding up the girl promptly dropped her and ran down the street screaming as though the snowman had tried to strangle him.

Sirius doubled over with laughter while James howled wildly. Peter giggled and gave the occasional snort, but Remus only frowned disapprovingly. After a few more seconds of the snowman dancing around the front yard, he took his own wand out and waved it towards the dancing object. A blue bolt shot out of the wand and hit the snowman in the head. The snowman exploded into the air, and the snow settled back onto the ground. “If you’re done torturing children, do you mind if we return to Hogwarts? It’s freezing out here,” he growled while replacing his wand and wrapping his arms around himself. His thin robes didn’t do much to keep out the chilly winter air.

The other three boys continued laughing for another minute before calming down again. By this time, the kids had returned to their yard, and glared at them. The children gathered up handfuls of snow and threw them across the street. “You think you’re so funny!” the youngest girl cried out as her snowball hit Peter in the thigh. Sirius, James, and Peter quickly joined in the snowball fight, leaving Remus standing there, rolling his eyes.

“Good bye,” he muttered before turning and walking away, back towards Hogwarts. “Every year, they do this. So immature…” he said to himself as he made the trek back to the school.

The other boys continued playing in the snow with the children until it was too cold to keep playing. As they said their goodbyes, and waved to the kids, Sirius turned and called out to them, “We’ll be back again next year, be ready for another snowball fight!” When James and Peter looked at him warily as they walked to school, he shrugged his shoulders. “What? It’s for the children…they enjoy it…”

“Yeah, for the _children_ ,” James said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s go get warmed up and eat dinner. I’m starving.”

The boys turned and walked out of the fun and magical village of Hogsmeade, to return to Hogwarts. A light snow began to fall, but they were busy making merry and talking about the Christmas holidays to notice. Sirius Black would look back on this day as one of his favorite Christmas memories. One that he would think of every year ever after.


End file.
